Cold November
by Alexandra Depp
Summary: Bobby's thoughts during the shootout.


Frozen. That was how it all around him. The sun wasn't doing much more than blinding him and after this, he was almost certain that he'd never be able to warm up again. Despite the literal dead surroundings, Bobby felt paralyzed by the light of the day. Mother fuckers had to come and do this during the day time. They had to shoot up ma's house. Jackie had to answer the door.

...Jackie...

Bobby winced and scrambled to his feet, Angel following close beside him. He slid onto the cold wet earth, seizing his brother's head in his gloved hands. It was an absurd thought at the time but Bobby's hands had found their way over to cover Jackie's ears. He knew how much his brother always complained about numb ears but refused to wear a hat. Vain little princess. But the numbness to Jack's ears was the least of their worries right now. All Bobby had to do was look at his brother's pale face, the protruding veins, the gunshot wounds and he lost it.

"Jack! Jack, look at me! Jack, you all right? Hold on. We need an ambulance!"

This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening, could it? First ma...now little Jack. Bobby didn't even want to understand it. He couldn't understand how God could be such a bastard, taking the only woman who ever gave two shits about him and now he was gonna take his little brother?

He was barely aware of the others around him, just as hysterical as him. No no no. Not Jack. But Bobby knew the more he denied it, the more time he was wasting and these were going to be the last moments he had with the youngest Mercer brother. Angel was beside him and as frantic as Bobby was, he almost wanted to tell him that it was his turn to be the baby again. But no.

"Jack...Jack. Jack! Jack, please. Come on, man."

There was no stopping his helplessness. He was holding that fluffy blond head of hair possessively. That hair had been the same for years, ever since Jack had first moved into the Mercer house. Bobby often told him to run a comb through that rat's nest and Jack had always responded with a shrug. That was the thing with Jack, he always took Bobby's jibes like second skin.

The vomiting of blood was the most grotesque sight Bobby had ever seen, and being who he was, Bobby had seen a lot. Man, Jack hated puking. Bobby knew as he had held the kid's head up plenty of times while he released the night's filth into that porcelain bus. All that blood. Jackie used to tear up when he skinned his knee.

"Come on, Jack, you gotta breathe!" He sounded desperate and he was. He wasn't aware of his own tears or the strain on his voice as he struggled with his words. What could he say to his little brother in these last moments? It was so hard, especially when memories struck him from all ends. Was this the same kid who used to hide his own toothbrush in his sock drawer? Was this the same kid who had slicked his hair back in an attempt to be like Bobby? Was this the same kid who had spent three hours in the kitchen to make Bobby his choice of dinner for his birthday? Was this the same kid who always looked to Bobby for answers, the kid who had held onto him for dear life when trying to learn how to skate...? Yes Jack had held on then and Bobby wanted him to hold on, hard as it was. But Jack was a Mercer.

Bobby was so scared. Nay, he was terrified. The thought of losing his younger brother scared him more than anything. It was his job to take care of Jack. Sure, they had all gone their separate ways but even then, Bobby knew that some day Jack would need him again and Bobby would be there. Then it dawned on him. If he was this scared, his little brother must have been frightened beyond all comprehension. He couldn't understand why all of this was happening to him. Why him? Jackie was so naive.

Bobby shook his head, his pain cutting through him like a piano wire. "Don't you die on me you little fairy. Come on, Jack. Please! You gotta fucking breathe! Come on!"

He didn't think it was possible but his little brother was smiling. Somehow, that broke Bobby's heart into pieces. It was like some fucking movie. _You being brave for me, Jackie?_

Jack breathed his last breath. His eyes shut and he died in Bobby's cradling hands.

Bobby broke. "Jack! Jack. Jack, come on. Jack, please!"

Silence.

"Please..."

**Flashback**

"Alright, fairy. Now hold on. Just look straight ahead and let your skates glide smoothly, kay?"

Jack nodded his head a little uncertainly. He was still a tad nervous about not wearing a helmet but then, apparently no one did in the Mercer family. Bobby wouldn't let go of him though. He took a hold of Bobby's arm as tight as he could and began to move slowly, following the elder close.

Bobby rolled his eyes, snorting to himself. "Wanna hold me any tighter, Cracker Jack? I'm not gonna let you fall, kid. Relax."

Jack looked up into those hazel eyes of Bobby's studying them for the veracity of his statement. Of course, Bobby had that smart ass look to him but somehow Jack just knew that he meant what he said. Jack would not fall and so he loosened his grip.

Bobby laughed and sped up, making sure to knock a couple of people down as they passed. He watched how Jack nervously glanced back and Bobby reached out to nudge his cheek with his bare knuckles.

"Shit, I gotta make a man out of you."

Jack smiled a perfectly innocent smile.

**End flashback**

Slowly, Bobby would release his brother from his grip and rise to his feet. He grabbed his gun and headed for the offending van, eyes set with frightening resolve. This one's for you, Jackie.


End file.
